


Of Love and Bleeding Crowns

by livinginnightvale (cloudsgrl)



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: 10+ years after canon, Adult!Frisk, Ambassador Frisk, Eventual holiday fic, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Future Fic, Other, Post-Pacifist Route, Squishes, eventual angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-05
Updated: 2016-04-05
Packaged: 2018-05-05 01:10:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5355299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cloudsgrl/pseuds/livinginnightvale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You met in a cafe. You were infatuated immediately, creepily. And as much as you felt you acted like a fool, you hoped they would remember you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Awkward Not Meetings

**Author's Note:**

> YEP, I DID IT. I fucking caved in. I got this plot idea, and I had to write it, especially since it seems no one else is implementing it in the fics I've read so far. Hell, I don't think there's a Reader/Frisk fic anywhere yet, so I'm just...
> 
> Yeah.

It was a Tuesday, and the cafe you frequented was abnormally busy. You somehow managed to find a fairly clean table near the large window and claimed it for yourself before anyone else could try. You had spread your items across the surface as another visual claim: your book open in front of your seat, your latte sitting beside it. And then just further over was the pastry you decided to treat yourself with, recently made, and still steaming.

Even with the clamor of the students and businesspeople entering and leaving, and study groups debating topics, somehow you found the noise relaxing, and you began to sink into your book. You’d interrupt your reading to sip your drink, steadily getting cooler and cooler as you forgot about it, and your pastry had quickly become nothing but crumbs despite you not actively remembering eating it (your fingers were somewhat sticky, and you knew you were the culprit).

The cacophony erupted around you as a larger group of students entered and realized there were no open tables. You continued to read your book and drink your coffee. After a moment, you stood and ordered another.

As the noise level grew, a figure approached your table and you looked up. The person was a little above average height, with brown hair and narrow eyes, and a pleasant smile on their lips. “I’m sorry, but do you mind if I join you? I just need a space to type up some emails.” They gestured to the laptop bag in their hand.

You pulled your coffee and empty plate closer to your side and gestured. “Help yourself.”

“Thank you.” They sat down, and you quickly returned your attention to your book, despite the large urge to place it closed on the table and initiate conversation with this person. They were beautiful, with the clean lines of their clothing, a loosened striped tie around their long neck hinting that they were at the end of their workday. Their hair was long enough to probably pull into a bun, or even braid.

How in the world did this model-like figure deem to ask to sit at your table? You found yourself blushing, and hid yourself behind your book, staring hard at the the text on the pages. None of the sentences were registering, and you felt embarrassed. What if they noticed? How could they not notice? How in the world did such a person travel through the world not knowing how beautiful they were? That sort of careless beauty...

“Excuse me?”

You immediately looked up to see them smiling at you. “Will you watch my things? I’m going to get a pastry.”

“O-of course.”

The smile brightened, and you felt your face turn darker. You were dazzled, holy fuck. They paused in heading towards the counter, their smile dropping briefly before it came back at full force and they continued onward. You felt your heart stop. Did they realize how creepy you were acting? Did they know your thoughts? Oh, gods, that must have been why their smile disappeared. Oh, they were coming back! Quick, act like an adult!

You schooled your face into an expression you hope conveyed disinterest. You went back to reading your book, making sure to reread and mentally summarize what you’re reading for optimum recall later.

The small click of the plate against the table, followed by another had you glancing up. They bought themselves a profiterole lightly drizzled with a chocolate sauce and some sweet-flavored coffee. The combination had you smiling, you could smell the sugar from here. They caught your eye as they sat back down and grinned.

“I have a bit of a sweet tooth.”

“I can tell,” you said, your smile widening.

You went back to reading, and they went back to typing at their computer. You wondered if it was weird to wonder how their held their fork, and how they ate pastries. You wondered what it was they were typing, and what they did for a living.

You wondered what their age was, what their hobbies were, their interests, and what they did for a living.

You wondered what their name was.

Eventually, the cafe began to clear, and the sound levels lowered. You could hear their fingers clacking against the keyboard easier, the soft hum they made as they paused, looking for a way to phrase their opinion. Once again you wondered what they did for a living.

You went to sip at your coffee, and frowned when you realized you finished your second cup already. Was it too late to get another cup? The fact you even bothered to get a second one was enough of a difference from your routine that you were feeling anxious. Too much caffeine too late had started to affect you, undoubtedly a side effect from having to wake up absurdly early in the morning to be at work on time.

Glancing at the clock, you cringed; you had to be home soon if you wanted to be in bed early enough that you wouldn’t be miserable tomorrow. You marked your place in your book and shut it, your gaze darting upward to see your tablemate look up at you in curiosity. You managed to smile when you met their eyes before they continued working. You gathered your plate and cups and took them to their designated places, and returned to the table. You pulled on your jacket and scarf, wrapping it tightly around your neck and tucking it. The sun was already down, and the air was bound to be chilly outside, you weren’t taking any chances.

“It was nice meeting you,” You managed to say.

They nodded. “You too. Have a nice night.”

“You too...”

You walked out of the cafe, head high, stride strong, and promptly leaned against a wall when you were out of sight. You pulled your cell phone out of your jacket pocket, where you kept it there in silent mode so you could enjoy your book without interruptions. The screen contained notifications for numerous text messages, and a missed phone call from your grandmother, undoubtedly wanting to know about your holiday plans.

You’d call her back later.

Once home, you began the process of removing the jacket and scarf and turned on the television. Because you’re a bit of an emotional masochist, the first thing on the screen was the local news station, the anchors conversing happily about something in the news for a change. Curious, you turned up the volume.

_“It’s exciting knowing they’ve returned to town,”_ the female remarked, almost bouncing in her chair. _”It’s been years since the Monster Ambassador has been home. Hopefully they’ll stay for an extended period of time this time!”_

The male laughed, _”Are you hoping for a large event again?”_

_”Well...”_

_”Last time Ambassador Dreemur was in town, the King hosted a large get-together. Maybe he’ll do the same this year?”_

You rolled your eyes and shut the television off again before making your way into the kitchen, where you had a meal in the slow-cooker. The Ambassador was back in town? That would explain how excited the monsters were recently, they probably missed them.

You pulled a plate from the cupboard and served yourself, turning off the heat and made your way to your desk. You shrugged, went back to eating, and googled for more information about the ambassador.

Immediately, your browser was overwhelmed with photos ranging in age and pixel size. And right in the middle of all of them was that gorgeous being that sat across from you at the cafe not even an hour before.

“Holy shit.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updated a little bit of the first chapter, just changed it so it wasn't so creepy (I had a couple of messages on my tumblr say so, so I thought I'd fix that). Please let me know if this chapter comes across the same.

You found yourself scrolling through articles, curious to know more information about the Monster Ambassador. You had to admit you never thought the Ambassador would grow up; usually upon hearing about the Ambassador, you would remember the photos that were released years ago when the monsters made it out of their jail. You never thought to look up more information, what you heard was through the little notifications on your Facebook timeline, or blurbs from the news like tonight. Never had your brain equated “Monster Ambassador” with a normal human being who would grow and age, and they had aged very elegantly.

“Frisk Dreemur,” you murmured to yourself. “What a name.” Though, you supposed, it was better than any common name. You remembered having four Michaels in your algebra class, and who knew how many Ashleys and Amandas. It certainly made their name stand out. With that thought, you searched for more in-depth information; you wanted to know about their pronouns, if they identified as anything in particular, so if you _did_ happen to meet them again you would be prepared.

You ran your hands over your face in frustration. This search sounded creepy, but was it? You just wanted to be informed. You wanted to be educated about the Ambassador, in case they came up in conversation, or if you happened to meet them again through pure coincidence. You wouldn’t go out of your way to run into them, you knew that. It would be one of those incidences of where you would see them across the restaurant or on public transportation (do Ambassadors take public transportation? Would it be safe for them?) and you’d probably internally shriek at the fact you saw them and you recognize them. No interaction, no creepy stalking, just. . . acknowledging to yourself that you know their existence and that’s good.

You found their official website and found yourself staring at the photo background. Instead of the typical photos of politicians standing in front of a flag, or a blue background or a podium, Frisk Dreemur appeared to be standing at the top of Mt. Ebott, smiling, as the sun began to rise in the distance. How much of this photo was manipulated, and how much was just really great lighting? You had so many questions and no answers.

You closed the internet browser and made yourself go to bed. If Frisk’s very existence was having you contemplate It would be easier and much simpler if you just completely forgot about the whole situation and interaction. So so much easier.

.

This was so not easier.

You sat at your desk, looking out into the lobby where Frisk Dreemur and a yellow dinosaur(?) appeared to be speaking with Catherine, the officer in charge of biotechnology. You were in charge of answering the phones, directing calls to the appropriate people, and answering questions if you can. Occasionally you would stamp paperwork, or file, but your main priority was answering the phone. It wasn’t the best job, but it paid bills and you could afford to splurge now and then.

But why in the world were they here? Why now? The dinosaur monster appears to be completely in her element, gesturing with her claws and Catherine is nodding along, taking notes on her usual notepad. But the Ambassador’s presence...?

As if knowing you’re thinking about them, Frisk looks around and meets your gaze. You feel yourself flush and you return your gaze to your computer, looking over the meeting calendars, and checking that you haven’t received a crucial email in the period of time you’ve been _dare you say it_ staring. The phone rings, you answer it in that particular tone of voice you’ve been programmed to recite, and begin writing down information.

There’s movement at your desk, and you look up, making the gesture for ‘one moment please’ as you ask clarification questions before transferring the call to another officer. Frisk stands there, glancing at the pamphlets detailing how to go about pursuing a patent and protecting one’s ideas, as well as licensing and other actions your firm handled. They smiled at your silent request and continued gazing at the information provided.

You transferred the call and plastered on your customer service smile. “How can I help you?”

“Hello again,” Frisk greeted. “I was surprised to see you again so soon.”

You agreed, “It’s nice to actually be able to talk if we want to; it was far too loud in the cafe.” Your computer bleeped an email notification. Honestly, you wanted nothing to do with the email, as this was your chance to get to know the Ambassador more. Who knew if they would need to visit again with the other monster; maybe this was an initial visit.

“I wouldn’t have been able to talk much,” they admitted. “I was behind work, and wouldn’t have been able to carry much of a conversation.”

“That’s fine,” you said, “I was there much later than usual, and should have been home long before we even shared a table.”

“You’re a frequent patron there?”

You reluctantly admitted: “I am. Every tuesday; their pastries are on sale and I am kind of an addict.” The ambassador chuckled, and you felt your face flush. “The employees recognize my face and usually have a pastry ready for me when I arrive.”

You could see Catherine pull out her business card and write something on the back. The yellow dinosaur-like monster nodded in response to something she said. Apparently this meeting was not going to last the typical length of time.

Movement brought your attention back to the person in front of you. Frisk picked up a business card and showed you the name. “Is this you?” You checked it and said it was. Frisk’s smile grew. “Would you mind if I sent you an email or two? I have a couple questions, and I hope you won’t be offended.”

There was a lengthy pause between the statement and your response. You could hear Catherine mentioning the office hours and when would be best to call, you could hear a couple of the assistants in cubicles somewhere behind you loudly clacking on their keyboards. “Work related or otherwise?”

Frisk gave a vague gesture. You grabbed another one of your business cards and wrote the email address you used for job applications on it, and then after a moment’s thought, your cell number. You handed it over. “That’s to contact me after hours; I cannot guarantee I’ll get back to you during the workweek, as I tend to be exhausted by the time I get home.”

They nodded and slid the business card into a jacket pocket. “I’ll contact you when I have the chance.” Frisk said your name and thanked you before turning and rejoining the monster. The two spoke and left the firm. The yellow monster seemed animated, gesturing wildly and talking at such a speed that Frisk couldn’t possibly get a word or two in edgewise. They went through the door, and offered a quick wave before leaving your eyesight.

Reluctantly, you returned to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It might be worth mentioning that at the very least I hope to update once every two weeks, as I'm only writing on account of a friend's challenge/encouragement thing that we're doing together, and every two weeks is the deadline. Please don't get used to this quick update schedule, as I honestly don't know what's coming up soon with my work and family schedule on account of the holidays.
> 
> If you have any requests on particular people you would like to see, I'd appreciate it.


	3. Squish?

The holidays blew passed in a whirlwind of travel, money spent, and food, so much food. When you returned to work, you were admittedly miserable. You enjoyed the break from the constant questions and paper pushing but you needed to pay the bills somehow.

If you had to be honest, you were only temporary staff, which meant the office could pay you less for doing more work, so it wasn’t uncommon for you to try and mooch food off friends when it was available. They understood (you hoped), and in return you kept searching for other jobs in the hope that eventually someone would give you an interview.

Honestly, the fact you even made enough money to buy food, much less pay rent and utilities was kind of shocking. Your roommates were undoubtedly tired of your stomach grumbling, and you were tired of smelling their delicious foodstuffs cooked right outside your room.

 

Being an adult was hard.

Being an adult living with people who barely tolerated you (because you couldn’t afford the rent to live with your friends) was even worse, but you made it work somehow. Barely. Okay, if your parents found out the extent of your difficulty they would probably insist you move back home, instantly.

But you were determined to make this work.

Your determination led you to your favorite cafe at five in the afternoon, gathering a large coffee of indeterminable flavor (you told them to surprise you!), as well as two pastries and a sandwich. You hoped that maybe you could eat the sandwich for dinner, and save the pastries for breakfast and lunch tomorrow, and then worry about dinner when that time came.

The cold, however, made it where you were quite miserable waiting for the bus, and your coffee was quickly becoming frozen. You sipped at it fairly quickly, and watched as your warm breath quickly froze upon exiting, forming the odd shaped clouds. As your breath became outside temperature, it danced in the freezing breeze, and you’re filled with determination.

“?” Your name was a brief word on the breeze, and reluctantly you turned into it to find the speaker. The person was bundled up heavily in the weather, and for a moment you regretted forgetting your beanie at home. Peering between the layers of scarf, hat, and jacket hood, you thought it might be the Ambassador. A gloved hand pulled the scarf down their face, and your intuition pinged happily. “Are you not going into the cafe?”

You shook your head and held up your half frozen coffee and bag of goods. “I thought I’d take something home tonight but--” you glanced at your app for Bus Arrival times, “my bus is really late.”

Frisk gestured to the cafe this time, head tilted to the side. “You could wait inside.”

“Not worth the stares.”

Frisk’s lips quirked upward, “I’ll buy you a warm coffee. I’ve been meaning to contact you, but I lost your business card. It would give us a chance to actually talk.”

You caught yourself biting at your chapped lips. It would be a hot drink, and you wouldn’t be waiting alone. Worse came to worse, you could always Uber home (even if you technically couldn’t afford to shell out twelve dollars). You glanced at Frisk again and their smiling face, and nodded. A free drink is a free drink.

Frisk led you back into the cafe, and over to the table where the two of you first met all those weeks before. They placed their items down on a chair and met your eyes. “What would you like?” You told them your preferred drink, and Frisk’s lips quirked upwards in a semblance of a smile.

As they walked away, you peeled away the extra layers and collapsed into your chair. You checked your transit app and sighed at the double star denoting the bus had been delayed. With a sigh, you put your phone down and glanced towards Frisk, just in time for them to bring the drinks over and place them on the table before doubling back and grabbing two pastries.

“I hope you don’t mind my adding a pastry,” Frisk said, taking a seat. “I asked for what I believe you had when we shared the table.”

You thanked them, and sipped at your drink. A little too warm, but still manageable without burning the inside of your mouth. You found yourself attempting to gather courage, curious as to why Frisk of all people insisted on speaking with you. Now you just had to ask. “May I ask - ”

The ambassador sipped their drink and took a bite of their pastry. Their wind-tousled hair pulled into a - what was probably once immaculate - messy bun, flyaway strands falling around their face that Frisk was quick to tuck behind an ear. The action drew attention to their bright red scarf wrapped loosely around their neck in an elaborate knot for layering. They smiled brightly, and it was like a punch to the gut. “Yes?” they asked.

So pretty.

You could feel yourself getting starstruck, and fought it off by engaging with your own snack and coffee. The pastry was still warm and flaky, and you enjoyed your piece with fervor. After a moment, you tried again. “Why are you so eager to talk to me? I’m sure you have a busy schedule.”

“Quite so.” Frisk admitted. “It’s rather embarrassing actually.” They briefly glanced away before looking at you again. Their shoulders seemed to tense up, and Frisk took a deep breath. “Have you ever met someone and just instantly wanted to be their friend? Like . . . I guess you could say it’s like love at first sight, only it was instant friendship?”

You felt your face lighting up. Frisk wanted to be your friend? To the point where they went out of their way twice to talk to you? “You mean like... like a squish?”

They blinked.

“It’s the want of a platonic relationship with someone. Kind of like a crush. Only not romantic at all.” You explained, avoiding the urge to mention that you probably had a mutual squish on them. “I get them all the time, so my friends helped me find the official term for it.”

“Platonic crush is a squish.” Frisk solemnly sipped at their drink. “Yes, I suppose that’s the word for it. I’m not sure how else to explain it. Our brief conversation, the type of snack you had, even the coffee you were drinking, the book you read, it just all added up to, I want to make friends with them.” Frisk shrugged. “It’s sounds kind of creepy, actually. But then you left, and I didn’t even get your name, and I figured oh well.”

“So at the law firm?”

“Completely on accident. I had no idea you were there until I looked up.” Frisk’s smile returned and there was that punch in the gut again. “It was like, Here, Frisk! Try again. And then I lost your business card.”

You ran your fingers along the rim of your cup, biting the inside of your lip in thought. A mutual squish. It’d been awhile since you had a friend that you could just exist with. You’d have to find out boundaries, like what Frisk would like from this friendship, if it was just mutual rant friends, or what.

You held out your hand, and Frisk peered at it curiously. “...yes?”

“Give me your phone so I can give you my number.” Frisk handed it over and you filled out all your contact information, with “Squish” before your name. With a single press, you had the phone call yours, and handed Frisk back their phone. “There. No excuse now,” you teased.

Frisk laughed and nodded. “I tend to text when I’m commuting or bored at meetings, if that’s alright.”

“Not a problem, my phone’s usually on silent, and I just sit at the front desk anyway.”

“Perfect.” Frisk said.

“Perfect,” you repeated. Your grin felt as though it could split your face you were so happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the delay. I ended up going home for Christmas without my laptop, and then when I got back, work and the commute drained a lot from me. The only time I've actually been able to write is when I'm sitting at the front desk, covering for a coworker, and half the time I'm answering the phones. (Hence why the reader has a similar job, it's easier to write what you know!)
> 
> Also, if you have any suggestions for Frisk's eye color, or how our Reader can meet the monster family, I'm all ears. Or eyes, as the case may be.


	4. Texts and Chats

Your life did not change very much, having Frisk’s number in your phone. You still struggled to get out of bed, you still handled paperwork as much as possible so you wouldn’t have to move onto the next task. You still left work and got your pick-me-up coffee and went home and collapsed on whatever available surface and blindly listened to whatever came on the television.

However the days of boredom and lethargy were filled with little bursts of happiness or entertainment. Text messages asking you random questions at random hours of the day. An occasional SnapChat that had you snickering into your elbow so you wouldn’t get in trouble at work. A link to a vine of a llama hopping around the farm to random songs.

It was an obscenely slow Thursday at the office, and you gravitated towards your phone. The usual websites that entertained you on such days were ineffective and you felt antsy in response. Frisk had notified you they would be in a meeting for a majority of the day, but “It will probably be boring. I will be bored. I will be so bored. I will text you.” And they did.

 _Tell me,_ the text message read, _Would you rather be without elbows or be without knees?_

You stared at the screen for a bit in confusion. “That is a very weird question” you responded.

_”That is not an answer.”_

You tapped your phone against your chin in thought. Without elbows or without knees? You typed a response, “I feel like no matter how I answer I’m going to offend someone.”

_”Undoubtedly.”_

“Which would you pick?”

The response was practically instant. _”No knees.”_ You tried to imagine the elegant Ambassador with no knees. The image was odd, but still fairly elegant. They’d pull it off somehow, you figured.

“You’ve thought of this before, haven’t you?” You quickly placed your phone on the desk face down, noticing one of the lawyers step out of their office and head towards you. They asked to reserve a conference room for a meeting later that day, and you took care of the details. It was only when they were closing the door to their office that you picked your phone back up.

_”Only every time I can’t fall asleep.”_

“Insomniac?”

_”I think I got it from my Bruncle.”_

You stared at the word for a bit. What the hell is a Bruncle? A brother uncle? Doesn’t that scream oodles of incest? You asked what that word was, and it took Frisk five minutes to respond.

_”Brother-Uncle. He’s not blood but he alternates between the two relationships. He coined the term himself.”_

“To be fair, whether or not he’s related, I don’t think insomnia is contagious.”

_”It can be learned.”_

“That’s not insomnia, that’s making yourself stay awake.”

_”Same difference.”_

You snickered into your phone cover, and attempted to answer a couple emails, all asking general questions through the office website. You forwarded a couple onto people far more knowledgeable about said answers, and went back to waiting for the phones to ring.

The light on the top of your screen blinked at you, alerting you to notifications. You swiped across the pattern lock as required and looked at the notifications. Two messages from Frisk, a couple updates from Liked pages on Facebook, and a friend request. You clicked the notification curiously, and felt your heart stutter upon seeing a friend request from a Frisk Dreemur.

The photo was of Frisk, hair messily tousled into a bun, arm wrapped around a yellow monster, possibly armless, both grinning wildly. They were holding up a peace sign, and looked completely excited in the very moment of the photo. For a moment, a brief moment, you found yourself curious as to the circumstances of the photo. It was adorable.

Frisk sent you a friend request, with a message attached. You hovered over the chat bubble showing their face before returning to the text messages.

_”Found you on Facebook. Hope you don’t mind that I added you.”_  
_”Just realized searching for you on Facebook without permission comes across as creepy. Not my intention.”_

Staring at the text messages window, you watch another arrive.

_”Seriously though, feel free to ignore it if it’s too much.”_

You decide to respond by adding Frisk, and replying in the chat window. A chat window solely with an adorable dancing emote. You snicker, and respond with an emote of your own. The Messenger app turns into something resembling an emote war.

You really doubt Frisk is actually doing anything regarding their job at the moment.

The office main line rings, and you are jolted out of the conversation. You are at work. You should be responding to emails and answering the rarely ringing phone; not responding to emotes with emotes, and friending an Ambassador on Facebook, or anything similar.

You quickly type, “work time, bbl”, and send it. You answer the phone with the usual greeting, and ready your pen to take notes. You should at least attempt to focus for the last couple hours today. Maybe you’ll attempt to invite Frisk to the cafe later, depending.

Sometimes conversing with the Ambassador was difficult. It was intimidating talking to such an extrovert, especially such a pretty one. All Frisk has to do is smile and you would instantly feel your insides twist in horrified joy. It wasn’t exactly the same as the smile in the photo with the monster, but that photo was enough that you wanted to save it as a contact photo.

Maybe you could get a selfie with Frisk.

No. No. You’re friends, but not close enough to warrant a selfie with each other to post on social media and things. You’re slowly getting there, but it’ll be a bit.

Your phone beeps again, and you glance at the screen briefly.

_”Before I forget, you wanna meet up this weekend?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had the plan to try and update twice this weekend as I start a new job on Monday. That's not going to happen apparently.
> 
> Sorry.
> 
> Hopefully this will be updated soon, I have a bunch of ideas.


	5. Chapter 5

You aren’t sure how you get through the rest of the work day. Just as you feel somewhat calm, your heart starts racing again. You were going to meet with Frisk this weekend, get to meet some of their friends, and possibly their family - maybe even the Bruncle they mentioned! - and you found yourself exceedingly anxious.

According to the messages from before, Frisk wanted to invite you to the large Christmas gathering the King held every year since they were freed, but without contact information that was a no go. However a spring equinox gathering was just the right level of informal that you felt semi-comfortable with.

Or so you originally told yourself.

Coming home from work was enough that you were trembling in your bus seat, burying your hands in your jacket so no one could see how affected you were. You had just Friday, and then on Saturday afternoon the party would start. Frisk said you didn’t have to bring anything for the potluck, but you felt like if you didn’t you would be mooching. You already mooched enough!

However looking at your stash of food you wondered if you had enough money to even buy anything to help make something... You could make rice krispies? Quick and simple and if done right then could feed a great deal of people... 

Wait, did monsters even eat human food? Wasn’t there a whole 60 Minutes episode about monsters and their ability or inability to eat human food and such? You pulled out your phone and began googling.

...

Were you really about to watch an episode about 60 Minutes when you knew all it would tell you is that some did and some did not?

Maybe. You were admittedly hitting levels of desperate. In a wave of anxiety, you sent Frisk a text.

_”Why do you ask?”_

“Frisk, please, I need to know if I’m going to step on some toes and offend monsters if I bring human food.”

 _”Not all monsters have toes.”_ They sent, with a smug winkie face.

You buried your face into the nearest soft surface -- apparently your couch arm -- to hide a whine before responding with just, “Frisk.”

_”You can bring whatever. The monsters that will be there will either eat your food or won’t care, and it’ll be fine.”_

“You sure?”

_”Positive. No one there has an offensive bone in their body. It will be just fine.”_

You took a deep breath and reread that line. It will be just fine. “I have made the decision to trust you.”

Without a moment’s delay, Frisk responded: _”A horrible decision really.”_ and followed it up with a selfie. You felt your lips twitch with the urge to smile. Frisk seriously needed to stop being adorable, they’re an adult, they should not remind you of the silly shenanigans small adorable children would enact.

“Oh, my faith is shaking. Woe is me, how can I trust the one I once called friend?”

There was a pause in a response, and you got a picture of Frisk posed in classic lament on a couch somewhere, an arm thrown above their head, the other hand pressed into their forehead as they seemed tormented with some unseen sadness. They had to get some help with the photo, as both hands were busy and in the picture, but there was a series of lo-fi, black and white filters on it that somehow screamed Frisk. How can filters scream of a person? It made no sense.

None of this made sense, and yet here you were...

You looked at the picture again, and realized there was no text attached to the message. “Hello,”  
You sent in question. You quickly saved the image before you could regret it. You wondered if you could make it a meme, with Frisk’s approval of course.

 _”Is it me you’re looking for?”_ You cursed as that Lionel Richie song began playing in your head.

“I would have went with ‘Hello from the other side’ myself”

They responded with “lol” and you heaved a sigh, not fighting the bright smile on your face.

“Frisk, was that picture supposed to have text?”

_”I was going to send you a Shakespearean quote about friendship, love and trust, and then realized none of them made sense in context.”_

You ran through the quotes you knew, and while you might have been able to recite a few, you agreed with Frisk: none really made sense in context. “I will say it’s a glorious photo though.”

 _”Thank you.”_ There was a pause and then a quick, _”Would you say it is the unkindest cut of them all?”_ Julius Caesar? It could have worked in context if provided sooner you supposed.

“I don’t think that’s how the quote goes, Frisk.”

_”It was worth a stab.”_

You could imagine Frisk cackling at the wonderful pun and too dissolved into laughter. As the laughter died out, you remembered you needed to make the rice krispie treats, and attempt to get to bed soon. There had to be a pun for this, fair is fair.

“I’d hate to cut and run but--”

_”Gotta go?”_

“Yeah, long day tomorrow, and I got to prep for Saturday.”

_”I understand. Shanks for your time.”_

“Good knife and sweet dreams.”

_”You too!”_

You put your phone on the charger and grabbed a notepad and a pen, beginning to write down what ingredients you needed, as well as the plans for the next couple days. You forgot to grab dinner, but at least the law firm did bagels and juice for breakfast on Fridays, so maybe you could sneak an extra bagel and no one know the difference.

With another glance at the clock, you turned off the lights and headed to your room, in hopes that maybe you will sleep enough tonight that tomorrow would not be absolutely miserable, despite the fact you knew it would be.

Anticipation was a bitch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The puns were intentional, and I was quite proud of them, so I kept them for good reason.
> 
> Plus the hints of Chara are beautiful and must be kept. MUST BE.
> 
> Hopefully more will be posted this month as adding to this fic is part of my CampNano goal.
> 
> Let me know what you think~


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